Katekyo Hitman Reborn! belongs to Akira Amano. I am not profiting in any way from this.
I apologize for any mistakes.
Wow. This took forever. Sorry. I'm tired. Thanks. Goodbye.
Chapter 1: Run, Kid.
Blond hair, blue eyes. Thin as a needle. Scruffy like a scarecrow. That was Colonello before he was Colonello.
"Hey, who's the kid?" a gruff looking man called out, directing the camp's attention to the small child. Near the edge of their temporary base camp, a child stumbled over his too big boots, hastily making his way to the men sitting around the fire. In his arms he carried a neat pile of sticks and leaves.
"Oh hey, that's uh- you know. That kid," a woman sprawled on the ground very helpfully supplied her drunken drawl.
"Uh huh, very helpful, thanks. Hey, kid! What are you doing here?" the gruff man turned his attention back to their mystery guest.
As the child reached the camp, he slowly set his burden down and answered, "I'm here to help! I can help!"
That… both answered everything and nothing.
"Oh yeah, that's the kid from the town we were just in. We decided he can tag along," said a man with one leg. Gruff Man crossed his arms, raising an un-delicate eyebrow.
"'We' as in who? I don't remember deciding anything about this," he grumbled out. One-leg Man only laughed at his companion.
"That's because you were sleeping when we went to town. Anyway, the kid's gonna stay with us. Who knows, maybe he'll end up joining us on jobs and stuff. We'll teach him everything we know!"
"Is this what we're doing now? Dragging kids to hell with us? To death? We're mercenaries. We can't care for some kid," gruff man argued. He glanced over to the child. The kid was building a small fort out of the sticks he brought back.
"Well, he's all alone, so why not, ya know? Haha!" Gruff Man snapped his eyes back to One-leg Man, wondering if his friend finally lost his mind.
"Janette, say something about this." At this, Drunk Woman Janette raised her head slowly before plopping it back down again.
"Shut up, Birch. Kid's cool. He stays," she managed to mutter out before falling asleep (passing out). Her drunk ass was truly nothing but useful that day. Thank you, Janette.
In the end, no matter how much Gruff Man Birch complained and whined, the child got to stay with them.
That day, Colonello found his first family. A precious group of rough misfits he can proudly call his.
"Hey, kid," Birch started one day. He and the child were out scouting the vicinity of their new camp that morning. It had been four months since the group's newest member. And it'd been four months too long for this one problem to go on for.
"Kid… We never got your name. What's your name?" Birch asked, somewhat embarrassed. Even he should've known the first thing to ask someone is their name. Right? Or something like that. The child looked up at him, but did not falter in his steps nor notice Birch's sudden bashfulness.
"I dunno," was the simple answer that smacked Birch across the face.
"Oh. Wow. This is sad."
"Oh. Is it? Oh no. This is sad," or so the kid said, but there was no emotion to that. The kid didn't care, did he.
"Uh, ahem. Well. I'll give you a name. A cool one," Birch didn't want to experience an uncomfortable silence, so he blurted out whatever came to his mind, no filter.
"Wow, really? Thanks!" At least the kid seemed excited about this. Birch just had to convince the kid whatever name he picked is cool.
"All right. How about… Uh… Colonel? There was this super cool guy I knew when I was your size, and I thought he was some sort of invincible superhero. I can't remember his name right now, though," he said. Hopefully, the kid will like it.
The child stopped now, forcing Birch to do so as well. He looked up at the gruff man like he served the moon and the stars on a silver platter. Just for a nobody, nameless child like him.
"My hair is yellow like corn, too," the child whispered out. Wait, what?
"Huh? Uh, yeah, I guess it is," Birch was confused by the non sequitur.
"My name is Kernel! The very best name! The coolest name!" Oohhh. Kernel, like corn kernel. Not- aahhh. Birch realized the kid's misunderstanding. It was nothing to be proud of, but Birch felt really smart. He's going to tell the entire camp about how smart he is later in the day.
"Kid, no. Not like corn kernel. It's C-O-L-O-N-E-L, pronounced like kernel. It's a military title thing, and it's very cool." Newly named Colonel smiled bright and wide. Birch sort of wished he'd thought of a better name, but ah. Too late. It was Colonel now.
"Well, Colonel," Birch took a deep breath and sighed. "We look after each other here. We don't split. If anyone runs alone, we follow. That's what we do. Welcome to the family."
Colonel once read a poem by whatsit. Something about gold and its inability to remain. He never gave it much thought.
"Hop, skip, jump! Keep up, Colonel. It's time for shooting practice!" Janette sang over her shoulder. Colonel, an obedient child, a hop and a skip behind her, listening closely to her low whistles. He wanted to whistle, too, but she wouldn't teach him. Told him, "You're a smart one. You can figure it out yourself."
"All righty, kiddo! Focus, and take out Tequila and Merlot."
He took his aim, held his breath, and fired. Bang Bang.
"Hm, you missed Tequila and somehow hit Chardonnay. That's all right, too! Clear your head and try again."
Colonel was fond of campfires. The smell of burning wood clung to everyone, holding tight for days and days, choking lungs and stabbing eyes. The flames licked and caressed anyone within reach, constantly fed, consuming greedily, more and more and more. It wasn't the fire itself he was so fond of, but the people around it. Janette the Drunk, always ready to crack out a bottle of her beloved whisky. Birch the Gruff, chuckling nervously to whatever weird thing he overheard by mistake. Peter the One-leg, laughing with great mirth over the antics of his friends that he would never get over. Fern the Vicious, watching over the happiness of the camp on the edge of the firelight. So on and so forth.
Colonel could belt out as many poetic words he knew to describe everyone in his family. He'd never run out.
He was so, so, so fond of that warm orange glow.
He wanted nothing more than to live those cheerful times on loop forever.
"Hey, Colonel!" Peter jumped down from above, landing with a soft thump and a graceful roll before Colonel. The child was very impressed, clapping quietly as Peter dramatically bowed with sweeping arms.
"Let's go on an adventure! I'm gonna teach you how to find and climb the best trees!" he exclaimed. Without giving Colonel any time to respond, Peter grabbed his hand and ran off into the woods, dragging the child with him.
"Listen carefully, Colonel. If you wanna win, you gotta know the game. And to know the game, you have to see everything. Even the things you can't see," Peter explained. It didn't make much sense to Colonel at the time, but he was just happy to spend time with Peter.
"What better way than to climb a tree, yeah? Great vantage points!" He laughed that special laugh of his. The one that let everyone know who was having a great time. That distinct Peter laugh. It was always refreshing to hear for Colonel.
"Okay, kid, get climbin'!"
All was still in the field. The grass didn't rustle. The birds weren't home. That seemingly abandoned building stood steadfast. It really was abandoned. But not empty. Not today. Earlier, it was loud and lively. The aftermath, quiet and not quite as lively.
"You know, Colonel," Birch heaved a breath. A wet cough. "I always fantasized my end to be louder and more action-packed. Ya know. Grand." He lay there, on the cold, concrete ground. That was fine.
"Shut up. I'm going to help, so shut up," Colonel nearly screamed at the fallen man. Eyes teary, hands bloody. His tears, not his blood. A messy sight, but he refused to tear his eyes off of it. Wouldn't. Couldn't.
He didn't want to see the others.
"But, instead of that fantasy, I got this," Birch continued as if he didn't hear Colonel's sobbing. Perhaps, he really didn't. "This quiet. Slow. Peaceful. Conclusion…"
"Birch?" Colonel's voice didn't crack. Of course, it didn't. He had to stay calm and strong for Birch. For everyone. For himself.
"This is fine."
"Birch?" If his voice broke, no one paid attention.
"... Run, kid. Live."
Colonel was not one to disobey orders. He wouldn't disobey Birch's last order.
He ran as far as he could.
No one followed.
